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Destinations, Dreams and Dogs - International adventure with a fast-track family (& dogs) of Old World values, adopting the Russian-Italian-American good life on the go…!

A Funny Thing Happened on our Way to Hunt Hamantaschen

Perhaps you remember our hamantaschen fiasco of last year, where, everywhere we looked, poof! all of the three-sided Purim cookies had disappeared (http://www.destinationsdreamsanddogs.com/hamantaschen-how-do-i-love-thee/).  Now older and wiser, I was armed with a fairly easy cookie recipe, and a bakery or two sure not to disappoint.

I think.

“Who has the hamantaschen?” Benedetto asks, unaware that he will soon be on a cookie-finding mission. I’m under a number of deadlines, and love as I might to be hunting cookies with the kids, it’s going to have to be him.

“The place near where you guys get your hair cut, near the Greek barber,” I suggest.

“Ah, good,” he enthuses, already picturing the grainy, Euro-breads that he will no doubt be picking up, as well. “I’ll take the kids after school.”

And thus they embark on their hamantaschen hunt.  The minutes tick by.  No sign of them.  When they finally arrive an hour later, they are breathless.  I wonder if the fiesty cookies fought back.

“Mama, you must come outside!” they breathlessly burst in.  “Come to the car!  Poshlee!”

“Okay, okay,”  I gather my chai and head out into the cold, inwardly tentative, outwardly smiling.  What’s going on?  Maybe it was a pizza-sized hamantaschen that they couldn’t carry out of the car and we would have to sit inside and devour it?

No.  There, in the back of the SUV, firewood was stacked and stuffed in every possible space.  It turns out that someone in the ‘hood was chopping down a huge tree and the workmen said we could take whatever we wanted.

“Really?” I said in amazement.

This was very unusual for an urban area where they could always sell the wood.  Our own woodpile was on its last legs, the final pieces almost finished.  It used to be that men in trucks would come from out in the country two states away and try to sell firewood door-to-door.  With gas prices so high, that was no longer a viable proposition.  We had kept our eyes open for firewood, but really, none was to be found.

And then, there it was.

“The man said we could come back if we wanted,” the kids added, shuttling the wood to the back.

“Really?  Do you want to?” I asked.

“That’s about $400 of firewood,” my husband replied as I went to the back to see.

There, a huge mountain of wood sat stacked.  There was a second pile nearby.  The dogs barked at such an intrusion to their play area.  The kids smiled at their handiwork and headed out to bring more home.

The meaning was not lost on us.  Here we were hunting down hamantaschen to celebrate the Festival of Esther and the miracle that happened long ago, when we had a little miracle of our own happen along the way.

Expect some good things in your life today.  Happy Purim!

 

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2 Comments : Leave a Reply

  1. avatar Sybil says:

    Wood vs. Hamentashen
    and
    Wood wins!

    That is a Happy and Warm Purim for quite a while.

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